The Crow: Sacred Flame
by Mercury Blue
Summary: It's the future, and every person at the Cherry Hill Shrine has been murdered. A year later, Amy deals with her emotions following the experience, and the possibility that her friend may not be quite dead...
1. Chapter One

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
Authors Notes: This is a The Crow/Sailor Moon crossover, but don't   
let that fool you. None of the characters of either "The Crow", or   
"The Crow: City of Angels" appear in this fic. It's strickly a Sailor  
Moon "What If?" story, starring none other than my two favorite   
characters, Amy and Raye. It's kinda sad in some parts, and gross in   
others, with romance thrown in. A little something for everyone...  
  
"The Crow: Sacred Flame" was written on basis of an idea the *just   
wouldn't go away*. And, well, those are the sort of ideas that lead   
to something interesting. It's rated PG-13, getting close to R, for   
heavy violence, swearing, sexual ennuendo, sexual assault, and various   
other naughties. So, little kiddies, turn back now!!! And if you   
don't, don't come crying to me if you get in trouble for reading this!  
I will not take responsibility if you are easily offended. Consider   
yourself warned.   
  
The Crow was created by James O'Barr, and Sailor Moon by Naoko   
Takeuchi. I do not own them! Except for the characters of Dave Green,  
Gabriel, Needles, Pockets, Snake, Moose, and Kiro- they're mine. ALL   
MINE!!!! *evil laughter*.   
  
Oh yeah, and I'm using Dub names. Sue me, but I LIKE the Dub. If it   
weren't for the dubs, I would have never become such an insatiable   
moonie. 'Nuff said. Now, for the story!!!  
  
This story is dedicated to the love of *my* life, Jarrod.  
  
-------------  
  
And death shall have no dominion.   
Dead mean naked they shall be one   
With the man in the wind and the west moon;   
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,   
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;   
Though they go mad they shall be sane,   
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;   
Though lovers be lost love shall not;   
And death shall have no dominion.   
  
And death shall have no dominion.   
Under the windings of the sea   
They lying long shall not die windily;   
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,   
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;   
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,   
And the unicorn evils run them through;   
Split all ends up they shan't crack;   
And death shall have no dominion.   
  
And death shall have no dominion.   
No more may gulls cry at their ears   
Or waves break loud on the seashores;   
Where blew a flower may a flower no more   
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;   
Through they be mad and dead as nails,   
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;   
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,   
And death shall have no dominion.   
  
"And Death Shall Have No Dominion"  
Dylan Thomas   
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part One  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
I remember it sometimes, in bits and pieces, coming to me like parts of  
a long-lost dream. It doesn't seem real- I can't bring myself to   
believe that it all happened. I prefer to think of it as a dark fairy-  
tale, a Gothic nightmare ill-conceived by a delusional mind. But it   
did happen. The events of those two nights will forever echo in my   
mind, sharp as knives. The events that would change my life, and the   
lives of those around me. The night *she* came back.   
  
Some say, when you die, a crow guides your spirit to the other realm.   
They say love is stronger than death and if the spirit carries a   
sadness sometimes, just sometimes, the Crow can bring the soul back to   
put the wrong things right.  
  
Those people are correct, yet , they couldn't fathom what I've been   
through; what I've seen. What happened on the night of April   
seventeenth is something like I've never seen before, even after all   
I've been through with the scouts. The anniversary of an event colder  
and more horrible than any created by a youma, or devil.   
  
I can remember it now...  
  
  
* * *  
  
Police lights flashed, and sirens howled. The static-y sound of   
radios crackled and popped out requests for the address of the crime  
scene, demands for back-up. A chubby cop barked out orders for a   
coroner, the Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand rapidly cooling in   
the biting chill of the spring wind. Ambulances pulled up, wailing   
for attention like a screaming child. Tokyo was lit up as if   
celebrating a grim festival of death in tribute of the victims.   
  
Amy ran up to a police officer, her blue-black hair forming a halo   
around her worried face. Tears streaked down her red cheeks.   
"Please," she begged, "They're my friends! Please, what happened? I  
a call-" The officer interrupted her.  
  
"I'm not allowed to divulge that information, Miss." He jotted a few  
notes onto a pad of paper, and spoke into a hand-held radio he   
clutched in his clammy palm. "Location, Cherry Hill Shrine, Tokyo.  
Get here fast." Amy grabbed his arm, and shook it, "Please, officer,  
they're friends of mine! I was told to come here..." tears streamed  
down her face, and he looked down at her, feeling sympathetic. "All  
right." He gestured towards a tall man in a black trenchcoat,   
speaking to two ambulance attendants, his face a mask of   
professionalism. "That's Detective Green. Talk to him."   
  
Amy thanked him, pulling her blue windbreaker tighter around herself  
against the persistent chill of the wind. She nearly ran towards the  
detective, panic contorting her pretty features. He stopped talking   
to the attendants, and looked at down at her. "Can I help you?" Amy  
shuddered. She knew something was terribly, terribly wrong with her   
friends, and it terrified her.   
  
"I received a call," she said, her voice shaky, "From one of your   
men. They told me to come here right away, that they found my number  
in Raye's room." She pulled the jacket tighter around her shoulders.  
"What's this about? Are they okay? Please, tell me something." She  
was getting impatient, frustrated. "Please,". Detective Green   
nodded, his dark green eyes penetrating her with a deep seriousness,   
and she knew suddenly what he was going to say.   
  
"You're Amy Mizuno, right?" A nod. She was shaking, and she realized  
it wasn't the cold- it was fear. "I need you to come with me. We've  
found three bodies- we need you to identify them." The world spun   
around her, lights became blurred. Amy fell to her knees, shaking.   
She knew- somehow, she knew it was something like this. Oh gods,   
why-   
  
"Miss Mizuno? Miss Mizuno, please." Sounds went in one ear, and out  
the other, tears rolled down her face. She was nearly hysterical.   
Perfect, level-headed Amy was hysterical. Her body shook with sobs.  
It couldn't be...   
  
She looked up, and he was there, crouched beside her, his black hair   
tangling as the breeze attacked it. "Miss Mizuno, I know this is   
hard," he said, his voice gentle all of a sudden, "But we need your   
help, here. We need to catch who did this, and bring them to justice.  
Please, help us." The tears slipped past her lips, salty and wet.   
She nodded. Sickness overwhelmed her. One minute, she was laying in  
bed in her apartment, lazily going over math equations in her head as  
she tried to sleep, and the next, here she was. Being asked to ID the  
bodies of her friends, who were dead. Dead.   
  
~Maybe it isn't them,~ her brain asked. It was going at a hundred   
miles an hour, she could barely keep up for once. ~Maybe they're   
making a mistake...~. The rational side of her chided herself,   
laughed at her. No, no mistake. They never make mistakes. Tears   
poured out of her blue eyes.   
  
"All right," she whispered, forcing herself to her feet. "I'll go   
with you." She hadn't quite regained her equilibrium, and almost   
crumbled to the ground again. Detective Green held onto her,   
catching her by the waist. He kept his arm around her shoulders to   
keep her standing. He nodded.  
  
"Good. Thank you, Amy." He began to lead her towards his car. A   
black Toyota Supra- not a normal police car. "I know this is hard."  
  
She forced a glance behind her, still crying. The world was blurry   
to her moist eyes, but not so blurry she didn't see the black bag on   
the stretcher, being put into the ambulance. A body.   
  
~But whose was it?~ She wondered. ~Why won't they show it to me now?  
Do they want to clean them up first? Is it that bad?~. Questions   
raced through her mind, turning up unanswered. Zombie-like, she kept  
walking, sitting in the passenger seat of the car as the door was   
opened for her. Her eyes traveled to the shrine through the window,   
to the flashing lights, to the police. She was in shock. The   
rational part of her mind told her this. That was why she was so   
cold, that was why nothing made sense. She didn't care. Being in   
shock was better than being dead.   
  
Dead. Like them. Oh, gods.   
  
  
* * *  
One Year Later  
* * *  
  
  
Maybe in another life  
I could find you there  
Pulled away before your time  
I can't deal, it's so unfair.  
  
And it feels,  
And it feels like  
Heaven's so far away  
And it feels,   
Yeah it feels like  
The world has grown cold  
Now that you've gone away.  
  
Leaving flowers on your grave  
Show that I still care  
But black roses and Hail Mary's  
Can't bring back what's taken from me  
I reach to the sky  
And call out your name  
And if I could trade  
I would   
  
And it feels,  
And it feels like  
Heaven's so far away  
And it stings,   
Yeah it stings now  
The world is so cold  
Now that you've gone away.  
  
"Gone Away"  
The Offspring  
  
  
Amy sighed and placed the last of three roses she'd brought on Raye's  
grave. That night would be the anniversary of the murders. One  
year since Amy's worst nightmare had been realized. The day would  
have also been Raye's nineteenth birthday.   
  
Slowly she stood up, her eyes misty, and glanced at the gravestones,   
reading the too-familiar names on the them. *Chad Kumada. A shooting  
star, gone too fast. May his brightness be remembered. 1979-2001.*  
  
Chad. He and Raye had only just started a relationship, much to their  
delight. They'd been so happy, Amy recalled. So in love. He'd  
confided to her the week earlier he'd planned on asking Raye to marry  
him. He'd shown her the ring, and everything. A small diamond,   
delicate, and perfect. He wanted it to be entirely from him, without  
any of his parents money, and it was beautiful. Raye would have loved  
it, if he'd ever had the chance to give it to her. Amy wondered idly  
where the ring was now.  
  
Her gaze drifted to the stone on the far right.   
  
*Shinji Hayashi. Grandfather, and Friend. May the Kami be with him.*  
  
Raye's grandfather. A kind, noble old man. His stone was a little   
more ornate, a little bigger. The man had been a respected part of   
the community. Amy missed him.   
  
Her blue eyes rested on the final stone, shiny marble.   
  
*Raye Hino. Beloved Friend, and Daughter. 1983-2001.*   
  
The tears that had welled up in her eyes flowed freely now. Even   
after a year, the feelings of grief were still strong in her. Ever   
since that night, her life had never been the same.  
  
With a sigh, she turned back towards the shrine. Their ashes had been   
buried by the river, across from the shrine, courtesy of Raye's   
estranged father. *Beloved Friend and Daughter*? He hadn't been   
there for her most of her life, when he'd taken off for his career in   
politics. He was nothing more than an absentee landlord, and Amy hated  
the man.   
  
Walking down the cement steps in front of the shrine, she waved at   
Kiro, the new caretaker, assigned by the Raye's father himself. Kiro   
was a nice man, forty-eight and stocky, with wide brown eyes. Amy had  
quickly befriended him and in return, he allowed her to visit   
whenever she wanted, to see the graves of her lost friends. She came  
every day, without fail. Sometimes, she would spend the night in   
Raye's old room, among the possessions she had forbidden anyone to   
move. Kiro didn't mind. He lived in Grandpa's old room, and was   
content to stay there. Chad and Raye's rooms hadn't been touched by   
him in the ten months he'd lived there. Amy was glad. Those two   
rooms had become her favorite places in the world.   
  
Drawing in a shaky breath, she walked towards Serena's house, where   
the remaining scouts were supposed to meet.  
  
  
* * *   
  
"You've been there again.". Serena made the observation as Amy sat   
down next to her at the short table in Serena's bedroom. "I can see   
it on your face,".   
  
"So what if I have," she rebutted. They didn't understand. Not one.   
They had grieved in their own ways, but all had recovered. Amy blamed  
them. How could they be so cold? Their friend was dead.   
  
"It's not healthy," said Lita softly. She shifted slightly, and   
pulled out a bag of home-baked cookies, dumping them onto an awaiting  
plate on the table. "She been gone a year."   
  
"The anniversary's tonight," Amy whispered, looking down at the table.  
"She would have been nineteen." They didn't care. Why would they?  
They didn't see the bodies. They didn't *know*.   
  
Mina piped up from where she lay sprawled comfortably across Serena's  
bed. "We all know that, Amy. But the past is past, and we can't   
change that." She yawned, half asleep in her cozy position. Amy   
didn't reply. She wanted the meeting to be over with. She wanted to  
get back to the shrine. Finally she spoke, her voice small. "I   
found out more about the killers," she said. "It seems the murder was  
organized, part of a pseudo-Christian cult that feels all other   
religions are evil. Being Shinto, Raye would have-"  
  
"That's enough, Amy! Can't you just let her rest in peace?"  
  
Serena's voice was loud, louder than she'd intended. Tears sprung to  
her eyes. "We all miss Raye and Chad, too. But this *isn't* going   
to bring her back. This... this *quest* you're on won't help anyone!  
You're just drudging up old memories!. She lowered her voice, a   
crystalline tear sliding gracefully down her cheek. "We all know how  
hard it was for you to be there, to see the bodies, the crime scene,   
everything. But how many times to we have to have this argument?   
Amy, just because she's dead doesn't mean we shouldn't get to   
*live*." Mina stood up from her spot on the bed, and placed a hand   
on her shoulder comfortingly. Amy just glared at them, trying not to  
cry.  
  
"You have no idea how hard it was for me. You weren't *there*. You  
didn't see the fear frozen on her face, even in death. She didn't   
even have time to transform! She was shot, point-blank, right   
between the eyes!" Amy's voice had risen to the point of screaming,  
and tears poured down her face. "Don't even pretend to know grief   
until you've gone to the morgue to identify the bodies of the people  
close to you!" All of them were crying now, Lita gazing sadly at   
the spot on the floor Raye would have occupied.   
  
"Amy-" she began. Amy sobbed.   
  
"I've got to go." Grabbing her bag, she ran out of the door.  
  
  
* * *   
  
The sun was finally starting to set behind the clouds, turning the   
sky an angry shade of purple as the remaining light glinted off of   
the looming storm clouds. A drop of rain fell and hit Amy on the   
nose, tickling her. Soon, another drop. And another. It started to  
rain harder, soaking Amy. She didn't care. The rain suited the   
bleakness she felt in her soul. She would have been nineteen today. It  
was all she could think of.  
  
"Hey, Cutie. Need a ride?" Amy recognized the voice, and turned,   
smiling as a familiar black Toyota pulled up next to her. Detective   
Green.  
  
"Dave! Hey!" Amy smiled, glad to see a friendly face after the day  
she'd had. Rivulets of rain trickled down her throat and hair. "How   
are you?".  
  
"I'm good, I'm good." Dave smiled, his green eyes lighting up. "Of   
course, I'd feel a lot better if you weren't out there, soaking wet.  
As much as the sight of you dripping with rain appeals to me, it can't  
be healthy. Come on, get in the car."  
  
Amy obliged, getting in and shutting the door behind her. Ever since  
that night a year ago, Dave had taken care of her, her 'guardian   
angel'. Sometimes she felt he was the only one who understood what   
she'd been through. Either way, the twenty-nine year old detective   
was the best friend she had.   
  
  
* * *   
  
It was black as pitch in the place she awoke. And it was wet. Very   
wet. Rain poured in never-ending torrents over her, chilling her to   
her very tones. Above her, two crows sat in a Cherry Tree, crying   
their mournful call.   
  
Where was she? This was the single thought that raced through her mind  
as she looked around her. ~How did I get here?~. Sounds of the river   
drew her attentions, and she looked behind her, trying to find the   
location of the flowing water.   
  
She saw it.   
  
Behind her, upright and unyielding like a grim sentinel, a tombstone   
rose from the earth. To her sides, two more. She was laying on a   
grave.   
  
Jolting upright, she gazed upon the tombstone closest to her, the one   
of polished marble. She read the lettering in the dim light, running   
her fingers over the etched symbols.   
  
*Raye Hino. Beloved Friend, and Daughter. 1983-2001*.   
  
A low scream rose in her throat as she read this, her eyes filling with  
horror. As fast as she could, she scrambled away from the grave, her  
eyes never leaving the lettering.   
  
~Oh no, ohno, ono....~ She did scream now, a low guttural scream that   
rose from deep in her belly. Soaking wet, she screamed, and screamed.  
  
Shaken, and cold, she stood up, the white dress she was wearing muddy   
and stuck to her. There had to be an explanation, she thought. She   
just needed to come up with it. Hesitatingly, she read the other two   
stones. Grandpa. Oh, Grandpa. And Chad.   
  
Raye fell to her knees, sobbing. Her hair hung, tangled around her   
shoulders as she wept, cold and wet. Above her, the two crows cawed,   
and she recognized them as hers, Phobos and Deimos. Her guardians.   
  
Wrapping her arms around herself, she stared at them intently as the   
rain poured over her.   
  
-------------  
  
Well, there it is, part one. Questions, comments, flames- they can all  
be sent to me at mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com . Although, you won't get  
anywhere with flames... I'll just laugh at them. 


	2. Chapter Two

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
Talk to me softly  
There's something in your eyes.   
Don't hang your head in sorrow  
And please don't cry  
I know how you feel inside   
I've been there before  
Somethin's changing inside you  
And don't you know  
  
Don't you cry tonight  
I still love you baby  
Don't you cry tonight  
Don't you cry tonight  
There's a heaven above you baby  
And don't you cry tonight  
  
Give me a whisper  
And give me a sigh  
Give me a kiss before you tell me goodbye  
Don't you take it so hard now  
And please don't take it so bad  
I'll still be thinking of you  
And the times we had...  
  
"Don't Cry"  
Guns N' Roses   
  
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Two  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
Dave gazed at Amy over his mug of coffee, a tired expression on his   
face. "This has been a rough year, Amy," he sighed, a lock of black  
hair falling into his eyes. "The cult's getting stronger- the   
killing more fierce. These people won't give up until they've wiped   
out every Buddhist temple or Shinto shrine in Tokyo." He sighed,   
and took a sip of the black liquid he held.   
  
"I've heard. It's been all over the news. Are there any suspects?"  
Amy leaned forward, speaking low. Dave shook his head.   
  
"I can't tell you that, Amy. You know that." Amy sighed.   
  
"I know, I know. It's just- I want these people to pay, so bad. I   
want you to get them." The thought of Raye and her family's killers  
behind bars put a satisfied smile on her face. "I need that   
closure."   
  
Dave nodded. "I know you do, Amy. And I'm sorry." He gave her a   
weak smile and Amy gazed into her cup, observing her distorted   
reflection in the tea. "I miss them, Dave. I really do. Sometimes,  
I can't even get out of bed, it hurts so much. Other times, I go to   
the shrine, almost expecting her to say hello, and beat Chad over   
the head with a broom." She laughed softly. "I never thought I'd   
miss her and Serena arguing." A tear rolled down her face. "Why   
can't I get rid of this pain?"  
  
"The pain will always be there," Dave offered, placing a hand over   
hers. "But in time, it will decrease, and grow weaker, and   
eventually, you'll be okay." He smiled. "Whatever it is that helps  
you, whenever you need me, though, I'll be here." She returned the  
smile.   
  
"Thank you." They continued to look at each other, their gazes   
softening. Amy started to say something, but was cut off by the   
ringing of a phone.   
  
"Hello?" Dave brought the cell phone he carried to his ear, and   
answered it. "Uh -huh. Yeah. I'll be there in ten minutes." He   
hung up. "Shit!"  
  
"What is it?" Amy asked, tilting her head. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"I have to go, I'm sorry." Dave stood up. "They've done it again."  
  
"Another cult killing?" Amy stood up. "Dave, is that who's done it   
again?"  
  
"Amy, I've really got to go." Tossing a handful of cash on the table  
for their drinks, he glanced at her. "There's money in there for you  
to take a cab back to your apartment. I want you to go home, and  
forget about this, okay? Get some sleep. Tonight's going to be   
rough on you." He kissed her cheek. "I just want you to take care  
of yourself, kiddo. I worry about you." Amy sighed.  
  
"I'm fine, Dave. You'd better go. They need you." Dave smiled at   
her, and nodded. "I'll call you, okay?"   
  
"Okay, okay, now go." Dave snatched his keys off the table, and   
left, casting a final glance in her direction. With a sigh, she sat   
back down, and picked up her teacup.   
  
  
* * *   
  
  
In a state of mind games  
It feels like a checkmate  
None of us will win  
And I don't think I can wait  
  
It's all a mistake  
How long will it take  
When the dreams are all gone  
How long till you wake  
  
"Mistake"  
Serial Joe   
  
  
  
"Our family is growing." A tall man wearing red robes stood at a   
podium in front of about eighty men and women. "As is necessary,   
our territory must grow too. You are all doing well, brothers and  
sisters, in disposing of the Pagans, and for that, I am glad. But  
still, too many remain for us to be contented. Your assignment,   
your task by God is to find these Pagans, and dispose of them. Can  
I hear an 'Amen'?"   
  
The room erupted with a boisterous 'Amen', and the leader dismissed   
them with a smile, confident his 'brothers and sisters' would dispose  
of some more 'Pagans' in the name of their god. Slowly, the crowd   
disbursed, and people headed out in every direction.   
  
Somewhere in the room, a shaggy blonde-haired man turned to his   
brunette companion. "What're we up to tonight, Brother Jason?".   
'Brother Jason' smiled evilly, and winked. "Well, 'Brother Andrew',   
I'm thinking... beers?" The two laughed, and walked out of the   
building.  
  
  
* * *   
  
She ran towards the shrine, her long hair flying behind her, the two  
crows following. She didn't know what had happened, just that she   
had to get there.  
  
Gasping, she reached it, clutching at the door with wet and dirty   
fingers. Quietly, she pulled the door open and stepped inside,   
dripping water onto the clean hardwood floor in the process. The   
crows cawed, and she shushed them, venturing deeper into her former   
home.   
  
When she reached her grandfather's room, she stopped. She could hear  
the soft sound of snoring from inside, and for a moment, her heart   
raced. Could it be she was wrong? Could this be her grandfather?  
  
Slowly she opened the door, creeping in the shadows up to the foot of   
the bed where the man lay. "Grandpa?" she whispered, her eyes  
inquisitive. The figure snorted in reply, and rolled over, exposing   
his face in the progress. It wasn't him. Just some fat old guy in   
her grandfather's bed.   
  
Anger flashed in her briefly, and dissipated. If it were true, if she  
and her grandfather... and Chad, her one true love were dead, it were  
only natural in that chain of events that someone replace them. She   
would have to get used to that.   
  
With a sigh, she cast a final sad look at the man's sleeping form, and   
walked out of the room, careful to close the door behind her.   
  
Raye creeped into the living area, and looked around her, a sad smile  
on her face. It had barely changed at all. There, on the wall, a   
photo of the three of them. And over there, an antique vase her   
Grandpa had brought back from a training trip. She placed a hand on it  
fondly, the familiarity comforting. Then it came to her in a flash.   
The memories.  
  
::"You on the floor, now!" And Chad, getting down on his knees, his  
hands behind his head. A tall man with shaggy blonde hair pointing a  
gun at him, his hand resting on the vase....::  
  
Raye drew her hand back in shock, tears in her eyes. "Oh, gods, no."  
In sadness and fear, she backed up, bumping into the nearby wall.  
  
::Another man, a mop of hair brown and slicked over his ears, a gun   
to her grandfather's head. Chad begging to leave him alone, take him  
instead::  
  
"No, no, no." She backed into the doorframe, tears rolling down her  
face. Another image.   
  
::Raye running into the room at the sound of Chad's yells; two men,   
one with black hair and bad acne, the other fat, blonde-haired with a  
goatee, grabbing her, holding her arms. Her wand in her pocket, so   
close, and yet so far. The blonde man, taking a gun, running it up   
her leg, lifting the skirt of her *miko* uniform, and shoving the gun  
inside her. Her crying in pain, and Chad screaming her name,   
standing up to fight against them...::  
  
Raye cried hard, the memories too much to bear. She preferred being   
ignorant, not remembering, but she knew she had to find out what had   
happened to her at any cost. Quickly, she walked over to where Chad   
had been kneeling, and threw herself to the floor, letting herself see   
what the room had to tell her.  
  
::Chad, screaming, and the man with shaggy blonde hair, shooting him   
in the chest. Him crying out, writhing on the floor in a pool of his  
own blood. Raye screaming, and screaming, and fighting the men who   
held her, crying for her love. The brown haired man laughing,   
gripping her grandfather tighter, shooting Chad again, in the leg.   
Him fighting the pain, trying to get up, still trying to save Raye.  
Grandpa breaking free, running to Chad's side. The brown-haired man   
shooting him in the back of the head-::  
  
Raye sobbed silently from her place on the floor, shaking her head.   
"No, no, no."  
  
::Grandpa falling, dead. Chad screaming for him, screaming for Raye,  
tears rolling down his face. Blood pooling at the corners of his   
mouth- the bullet had punctured his lung. Raye squirming in the arms  
of the black-haired man, fighting him, feeling the gun against the   
inside of her thigh. Raye screaming for Chad, who teetered on his   
feet as the blood poured from his open wounds. The terrible,   
terrible sound of the four men's laughter. A gunshot. Chad falling,  
blood pouring from his head. Chad, dead on the floor. Chad gone,   
forever. Raye screaming, screaming. Tears pouring down her face,   
tears falling down, down, down her throat, into her mouth, and she  
screaming Chad's name, over and over, fighting the men who held her,   
and just screaming.   
  
Gunfire.   
  
Raye, falling. Raye, with a hole in her forehead, falling, falling   
to the floor. Raye dead, dead as Chad, and Grandpa. Her blood   
mingling with Chad's as if in some morbid wedding ceremony.   
  
And more laughter. ::  
  
The tears wouldn't stop now. Tears, her tears, poured over the place  
where her and Chad's blood had flowed. She had lived through all of   
this before, and now, the memories were too much for her. She longed  
for the death that had so welcomed her a year before.   
  
She could hear her crows' voices in her head, speaking to her. [You   
must find them,] Phobos said kindly. [You must take your revenge   
against those who did this to you. Only then will you get rest.]   
Deimos agreed, adding her voice to Phobos'. [Yes, yes. We will show  
you where to find them. You must do the rest, Raye. It is your   
destiny.] Then Phobos again. [Yes, oh yes. Your destiny. Take   
your revenge, and be with Chad again. We will show you how.] [Oh   
yes, oh yes.]  
  
Raye nodded slowly, her face wet with the tears that still crept down  
her face. "I will," she whispered. "They will die. Every one."  
  
  
* * *   
  
"Chug it, chug it!" Chanting filled the room as 'Brother Jason'   
downed the tequila shooter he held in his hand. Laughter erupted,   
and a black-haired man with bad acne called out, "Shit, Snake, I can   
do better than that!" 'Snake' laughed, and tossed the half-empty   
bottle of tequila at the man.   
  
"You go for it, Pockets." Pockets gripped the bottle in one hand and   
opened the cap, swallowing a mouthful of tequila as several other men   
looked on. "See?" he belched, "No prob!"   
  
The room smelled like piss and vomit. Like sweat, and cigarettes.   
It was the kind of place that was filled nightly with the kind of men  
who'd commit murder for a nickel, and fuck for a buck. A tough-ass   
knuckles joint. These guys loved it.   
  
'Brother Andrew' leaned back in his chair, and sneered, a half-chewed   
cigar between his thin lips. "Fuck you," he yelled with a snicker.   
"Ain't none of you drink half as good as me, you mother-fuckers!"   
He tossed a casual glance at his fat, blonde companion, and nodded   
towards the two. "Have you ever seen anything more pathetic than   
these two pindicks here, Moose? Holy shit, what a fuckin' load of   
pansy-asses!" Moose laughed, and Pockets threw the empty tequila  
bottle at him. "Shut the fuck up, if you know what's good for you!   
Look at this dick head over here! Needles thinks he's a fuckin'   
almighty shit-kicker!" Pockets laughed, an annoying shrill of a   
laugh, stopping only at the sound of a safety being pulled. Slowly,   
he turned to glare up the barrel of Needles's gun.   
  
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, man? Get that the fuck   
away from me!". Needles put his gun away, glaring right back at   
Pockets. "You just wait, mother-fucker," he laughed. "I'm gonna get  
you one day." Pockets laughed.   
  
"Bull shit, man. Bull SHIT."   
  
  
-------------  
  
Part two... as always, comments, questions, and flames can be sent to  
mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com.   
  
Ja ne!  
  
Mercury Blue 


	3. Chapter Three

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
It seems that you're not satisfied  
There's too much on your mind  
So you leave and I can't believe  
All the bullshit that I find  
Life is overwhelming  
Heaving is the head that wears the crown.  
I'd love to be the one to dissapoint you   
When I don't fall down.  
  
You're no good for me.  
Thank God it's over.  
You make believe  
That nothing is wrong until you're crying.  
You make believe   
That life is so long until you're dying  
  
"Re-arranged"  
Limp Bizkit   
  
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Three  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
Raye opened the door to her bedroom quietly, trying not to wake the   
man who lay sleeping in her grandfather's bed. She expected the room  
to be empty, changed, but it wasn't. With a smile she thought to   
herself she'd like to thank whoever kept it the way she'd left it.   
Walking to her vanity, she sat down and picked up the glass tiger Chad   
had given her for their last Christmas together.   
  
::"Raye, I want you to have this. I know it's not much, but it's   
from me all the way. I didn't use any of my parents money on this."  
Chad offering the gift with trembling fingers, a look of hope in his  
green eyes. Raye opening it, smiling at him reassuringly, letting  
him know that no matter what it was, she'd still love him. Holding   
the small figure in her hand as it shone from the Christmas lights   
he'd insisted they hang up. Kissing him in thanks. "I'll keep it   
forever, Chad."::  
  
She replaced the figure, a sad smile on her face, and opened one of   
the drawers next to her. Pictures. Her and Chad, her and her   
grandfather. Serena, Lita, Mina. Amy. Raye missed Amy most of all.  
Those sad, doey eyes, that sensitive mien; Raye wondered idly how   
she'd taken her demise, and then shook her head, forcing the thought  
from her mind. She hadn't come back to rekindle old friendships.   
She'd come back for Vengeance.   
  
Placing the pictures back in the drawer, her hand grazed a familiar   
object, and she pulled it out.   
  
White make-up. And not regular make-up, either. It was the make-up   
she used when she performed traditional ceremonies, the make-up she   
saved for special occasions. An idea formed in her mind; a face.  
  
Raye saw in her mind's eye Chad's face as he had died- tears, streaming  
over his cheeks. Blood, trailing down the corners of his mouth,   
black as oil in the darkness; it was all she could think of when she   
thought of her revenge. Reaching back into the drawer, she pulled out  
the black make-up and brush she used to outline her eyes. It was all   
there, all she'd need.   
  
Glaring at her reflection in the mirror, Raye unscrewed the top from   
the white make-up, and reached into the jar, grabbing a handful of   
the goo to smear on her face. It went on easily, despite its age, and   
soon her face was as white as a ghost's.  
  
~Is that what I am,~ she thought. ~A ghost?~ Well, if she was, she  
was a damn real-looking one.   
  
She snatched up the brush, and dipped in the black paint, tracing each   
eye. Slowly, deliberately, she drew lines extending vertically over   
them, onto her brow and cheekbones. Good, so far. Now her mouth.   
Outlining it, filling in her lips. Extending the lines a little   
farther out in a grim smile. Oooh. Pretty spooky. Raye almost   
laughed. These boys were going to shit their pants.   
  
Clothing. She needed clothing. This white dress of hers wouldn't   
work. Stripping her closet, she found only a pair of tight black   
pants to wear, and so she headed to Chad's room, equally pleased to   
find that untouched as well.  
  
"Perfect," she whispered to herself, pulling out a fitted black nylon  
top, and combat boots. His stage clothes. On the back of his door,   
a black trenchcoat, reminiscent of his western days. Quietly, she   
pulled on the ensemble, surprised to find the shirt and boots fit her  
perfectly. The jacket was a little long, but it reminded her of Chad,  
so she decided to keep it.   
  
Now, she thought, she was ready.  
  
  
* * *   
  
Loud rock and roll music shook the walls, and cigar smoke filled the   
air as Pockets leaned over the pool table, sinking the eight ball to   
claim his win. "That's why they call me 'Pockets'," he said smugly,  
collecting the handful of bills his opponent reluctantly handed him.  
"Any other takers?" A tall black man with a scar across one eye   
stepped forward, a thin sheen of sweat making him glisten in the   
fluorescent lighting.   
  
"I'll play you," he said, his voice deep and imposing.   
  
Pockets nodded in the man's direction. "Who's that?" he asked Moose,   
who hovered next to him. Moose moved closer to him, reeking of booze   
and smoke. "That'd be Digger, best damn pool player this side of   
Tokyo." Pockets spat on the floor in disgust.   
  
"Ain't no one better at this game than me," he sneered, his dark eyes  
glistening with contempt. Digger, hearing this, chuckled to himself.   
  
"Then I'm sure you won't mind raising the stakes a bit," he muttered,   
holding up a thick wad of bills. Pockets couldn't help but notice the  
heavy gold rings that adorned the big man's fingers. "Five thousand  
dollars," he said. "Take it or leave it."   
  
Pockets counted the money in his pocket casually, trying not to let   
on how intimidated he was by the challenge. There was a lot there   
from his winnings of that night, but not quite enough. "I've only got  
forty-five hundred," he said, placing the cash on the table. Digger  
shook his head slowly. "Five thou, or nothing," he insisted. Pockets  
glared at him. Finally, he pulled a gorgeous pearl necklace out of   
his pocket, and tossed it on the table. "I took this tonight, at our  
latest raid. It's worth five hundred easy." Digger picked up the   
necklace and examined it, tossing it back at Pockets.   
  
"You're on."  
  
  
* * *   
  
Rage in the cage  
And piss upon the stage  
There's only one sure way   
To bring the giant down  
Defunct the strings   
Of cemetary things  
With one flat foot  
On the devil's wing  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl   
  
"Living Dead Girl"  
Rob Zombie  
  
  
Lights flashed by in incoherent pulses as she ran, not caring,   
through the streets of nighttime Tokyo. Long hair flowed behind her   
in ribbons of black, teased by the merciless wind. Above her, the   
two birds were on the wing, cawing and crying as they sped through   
the air, leading Raye to where she would find the first of the four   
men who had sent her to her death. She shivered with anticipation,   
eagerly awaiting the moment she would take her revenge. [This way]   
one told her, twirling on massive black wings in the even blacker   
sky. [There he is.] Below them, she ran in earth-bound flight towards  
her goal.  
  
She'd ran like this before, she remembered, when she was on the tail   
of a monster, a youma. Fast, focused, driven. But now was different.  
Now, she was tireless, leaping easily of over obstacles with inhuman   
strength and grace. She knew she wasn't a ghost- there was heat and  
blood- and weight to her resurrected body. She could feel the impact  
of her feet hitting the sidewalk and hear the sound of her own heart   
in her ears. But she felt no pain, no inevitable tugging at her   
sides as she grew tired of running; the rain didn't chill her at all.   
She followed the two crows she had cared for in life, linked to them   
in ways she'd never expected. The night spread before her in a   
never-ending blanket. She was invincible.  
  
Raye shot around the corner like an unleashed arrow, unaware of her   
surroundings, knowing only the insatiable lust for blood she felt.   
[You are the warrior,] the crows told her, [Tonight is your night.]   
They flew, they flew, and Raye followed. Finally, after how long,   
Raye didn't know, Phobos dipped into the lamplit alley to Raye's   
right, it's eyes fixated on the destined target. [There he is.]  
  
She saw him. Through the crows' eyes, she saw him, and she felt her  
purpose gather itself. After a year, after her loss, after death,   
she saw the one who had held her arms as the events had transpired   
that night. The one who had laughed mercilessly as Chad fell dead at  
her feet. The black-haired one with the bad skin.   
  
Pockets strode angrily down the alley, muttering to himself. He had   
lost the pool game. "Goddam, mother-fucking, sodomizing *bastard*,"   
he swore. His eyes were on the ground. He didn't see her, but he   
awaited her. He simply didn't know it yet.   
  
Slowly, quietly, she crept into the shadows. She didn't want him to   
see her yet. The element of surprise was still hers, and she wanted   
to use it to her full advantage. The bastard kept walking, swearing   
under his breath, and she began to laugh, a maniacal, wild, ghostly   
laugh from deep in her chest. Pockets stiffened as the laughter   
echoed through the alley-way, unable to see the source of it.   
Finally, Raye moved out of shadows, and he relaxed at the sight of her  
slender figure which approached him in the rain. It was only a woman,  
he thought to himself. Maybe he would have some fun with her.   
  
"Hey, baby, what the fuck are you doing in a place like this?" he   
sneered, grinning lecherously. "Hey, what's with the make-up, babe?   
You look like a fuckin' dead whore." Pockets didn't flinch as she   
advanced towards him, taunting her. "Oh, so you want to play?"   
  
Pockets drew out a gun, and pointed it at her, "Come on." Raye   
crescent-kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it skidding into a   
nearby mud-puddle. Eyes blazing, she charged at him, her hands   
clenched into tight fists as she threw him into a nearby wall with a  
sound of pure animal fury. Pockets fell to the ground.   
  
"Eat shit, and die," she hissed, jerking him to his feet. Pockets   
fought back, sending a crushing blow to her skull, but all she did   
was shake it off, and punch the larger man in the face. Fiery   
exaltation filled her, and she leered at him angrily, striking him   
with furious blows. Pockets bounced from the brick walls as she   
toyed with him, striking punishing backhand blows that left him   
reeling, but still fighting. "You murderous cock-sucker!" Raye   
yelled, throwing him to the ground. Pockets scrambled, and backed   
into the opposite wall, his eyes focused on the woman before him.   
Hands fumbled as he searched around him, and he laughed as he picked   
up the gun he'd dropped, pointing at Raye's chest. "Die, bitch!"   
He screamed, pulling the safety. Quickly, he fired five rounds into   
her breast. Blood pooled around the wounds, and shock filled Raye's  
features as she realized what had happened. She almost fell, then  
gradually, it dawned on her that she felt no pain. Pockets laughed   
triumphantly as he stared at the wounds he'd inflicted, when suddenly,  
slowly, they started to close. Blood disappeared, and soon, so did   
the wounds, leaving nothing behind to tell she'd even been shot, save  
for the holes the bullets had made in her clothing.  
  
"You ruined my shirt," she said, pissed off. Pockets just froze in   
fear, scrambling to his feet.   
  
"What the fuck are you?" her gasped, terrified. Raye felt elated,   
powerful. Immortal. With the moves of a cat, she pounced on him,   
immobilizing him with pitiless hands. "You murdering son of a   
bitch," she gasped, her voice harsh from their fighting. Pockets'  
eyes darted from side to side in fear. Nothing he did had seemed to   
hurt this woman, and he was shaken from her strength, and brutality.  
Raye drew her hand around his throat, her eyes serious and   
penetrating.   
  
"What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? Who the fuck *are*   
you; I don't even know you." Pockets shook, a thin sheen of sweat  
covering his repulsive face.   
  
"Once upon a time, there was a girl," Raye started, her voice sing-  
song, childish. "When she grew up, she wanted nothing more than to   
be head priestess, maybe a singer, or a model, and a good wife,".   
She laughed, bitterly. "It seemed she was achieving those goals-   
she'd fallen in love, she was getting better at her *miko* skills.   
Everything was falling in place for the girl."  
  
"You're out of your mind!" Pockets screamed, his face a mask of   
terror. Raye tilted her head at him. "Shut up!" she barked, her   
grip tightening on his throat. "I'm not finished yet! One day, the   
girl walked into her sitting room at the sounds of yelling. She   
watched the two people she loved more than anything, killed in front   
of her! Her arms were held as she was attacked. As she was killed."  
A dry sob escaped her, and she mentally slapped herself for letting   
emotion get the best of her. "Do you remember that, Pockets?   
Because you were there, a year ago." Pockets fought for air, eyes   
wide as he stared at her.   
  
"No- no that's impossible!" Pockets shook under her firm hold, his   
eyes never leaving her face. "You're dead! We killed you!".   
  
::Firm hands on her arms as she writhed in pain against the gun.   
Grandpa, falling dead at her feet. Chad in a pool of blood.   
Obscene, cruel laughter. Hands, hands.... they wouldn't let her   
scream.::.  
  
"The cat came back," Raye hissed, and Pockets darted forward,   
knocking her back. She hadn't expected him, in his fear, to be so   
bold. She wouldn't make the mistake again. As he scrambled   
backwards, Pockets threw anything he could reach at her, in a pathetic   
attempt to protect himself from her small but imposing frame.   
  
"Get away," he cried. He wasn't so tough anymore. "Go!"  
  
Raye continued, pressing forward towards her adversary, stooping to   
pick up a rusted piece of wire that lay twisted at her feet. She   
tugged at the wire, and advanced steadily, until he was backed against  
a wall again.   
  
"You have a chance for redemption," Raye said softly, coiling and   
uncoiling the wire she held in her hands. "At the count of three,   
you'll tell me where your buddies are, do you understand?" Pockets   
shook, terrified, but determined not to reveal the secrets as to   
where the rest of his crew stashed themselves.   
  
"One." No reply. She moved closer, still playing with the wire.   
"Two." Closer still, and his brow twinkled with sweat, and rain.   
Her eyes were level with his, boring into him. There was no room for  
pity in this game. A silence. "Three!" Quick, snakelike, she   
wrapped the wire around his throat.   
  
"Duke's! They hang out at Duke's!" Pockets cracked, tears in his  
eyes. "Please, don't kill me!" Raye looked at him in mock pity for  
a moment, then bared her teeth in a devilish snarl, tightening the   
wire, and looping one end through the grating of the above fire   
escape. She pulled it tight. Pockets dangled from his neck,   
frantically gasping for air, clawing at his throat, begging for   
release.   
  
"I went past three," she whispered. "I'm sorry."   
  
With the agility of a tiger, she leapt onto the fire escape, and then  
onto the roof. She was gone.  
  
For several moments, all that could be heard were the sounds of a   
lowlife dying.   
  
  
-------------  
  
Hmmm... getting a little intense, ne? That's okay. Comments,   
questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com  
  
Ja,  
Mercury Blue 


	4. Chapter Four

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
You let me violate you  
You let me desecrate you  
You let me penetrate you  
You let me complicate you  
  
Help me I broke apart my insides  
Help me I've got no soul to sell  
Help me the only thing that works for me  
Help me get away from myself  
  
I wanna fuck you like an animal  
I wanna feel you from the inside  
I wanna fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to God  
  
You can have my isolation  
You can have the hate that it brings  
You can have my my absence of faith  
You can have my everything  
  
Help me you tear down my reason  
Help me it's your sex I can smell  
Help me you make me perfect  
Help me become somebody else  
  
Through every forest  
Above the trees  
Within my stomach  
Scraped off my knees  
I drink the honey  
Inside your hive  
You are the reason  
I stay alive  
  
"Closer"  
Nine Inch Nails   
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Four  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
Gabriel shed his red robes as he walked into his apartment, an   
attractive woman following him, hanging off of his arms like some   
decorative object. After a day of preaching, he was glad to have the  
opportunity to indulge himself in the sins of the flesh.   
  
Sins. To him, the word was laughable, despite the fact he was the   
leader of the most feared religious group in Tokyo. As founder of   
the Church of the Truth, he made the rules as he saw fit. Crime, sex,  
drugs- all was okay as long as it was in the best interests of the   
Church, or in lesser terms, him. He was proud of the little empire   
he'd built himself, proud of the fact he controled so many. Every   
night, his boys would loot and steal in God's name, and bring the   
profits back to him, and in return, he'd preach the word, and allow   
them to destroy temples and shrines across Tokyo, and beyond. He saw  
it as a nice investment, considering he didn't much care for those   
other religions anyway. They took away from his little gathering of  
faith, let his followers' minds wander. He couldn't let that happen.   
  
So now he was stinking rich, and he loved it.   
  
Glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he passed, Gabriel smiled.  
He was a handsome man, and knew it, with the face of one of   
Botticelli's angels, and a name to match. Neither woman nor man could   
resist him, and that was one of the things he attributed to his status   
as leader. He was charming, suave, beautiful. A wolf in sheep's   
clothing.   
  
With a smooth turn of his head, and a graceful wink, Gabriel lay down,  
his bed partner quick to follow. It was easy for him. So simple.   
An arm around her, a kiss to her throat. Gabriel gazed behind her at   
the clock on the wall. He still had an hour or two before his soldiers  
came to speak to him.  
  
* * *   
  
Amy writhed in her bed, sweat glistening on the parts of her flesh   
that weren't covered by the thin bedsheet. She was dreaming again;   
this time, it was worse than ever.   
  
::She was there, at the shrine, the night of the murders, and not   
afterward as had actually happened. Faceless men surrounded her,   
holding guns in their hands, but it wasn't her she was after. No,   
no, their guns were trained on Raye, on Chad, and on Raye's   
grandfather, who were crying. Their mouths moved, and no sounds came   
out, but Amy could hear them in her head. The were begging for   
help, but she couldn't move. She was frozen. [Please, Amy, help us!   
Help us.] Grandpa. And then Raye: [It hurts, Amy! Their fingers are  
like knives in my flesh- please, set us free!] Worst of all was   
Chad, hands outstretched, pleading with her. [We need you, Amy. I   
haven't even given her the ring yet. I need to give her the ring!]  
And tears, so many tears falling down their cheeks as the faceless   
men laughed and laughed.   
  
But no, suddenly, the tears were gone, and it was blood. Blood   
trickling down the faces of her friends. And they were dead. They  
stared at her with hollow eyes, empty sockets in exposed skulls.   
Decaying flesh hanging from loose bits of skin. Still crying,   
pleading with her to release them, to save them. Chad telling her   
over and over he never got to give Raye the engagement ring; he never  
got to propose. Animated corpses dancing among their killers. Tears  
poured down Amy's face as she watched them, not able to move, frozen   
in place. Then suddenly, suddenly the nameless, faceless men turning  
towards her, one extending his arm, and in his hand, a gun. A gun.   
Amy stared blankly at the weapon, terrified, yet unable to move. The  
faceless men still laughed, and her friends still pleaded with her.   
  
The pull of a trigger. Oblivion.::.  
  
Amy awoke, shivering in a pool of her own sweat, damp and cold in   
the blanket of moonlight that covered her. Her head throbbed, and her  
mouth was cottony. "Raye, Chad, Grandpa," she whispered, running her  
hand through her wet hair, "Why did you have to die?" Her heart   
pounded in her ears, so loud she was positive the entire world could   
hear it, and her throat tightened against the tears that threatened   
to overwhelm her. She'd hoped the pain would go away in time, and   
yet, she felt as awful as ever. Alone in her apartment in the dark   
of the night, she cried.  
  
* * *   
  
All simple monkeys with alien babies  
Ampehtamines for boys  
Crucifixes for ladies  
Sampled and soul-less  
Worldwide and real-webbed  
You sell all the living   
For more safer dead  
Anything to belong,  
Anything to belong.  
  
"Rock is Dead"  
Marilyn Manson   
  
  
With little more than a soft 'thud', Raye landed on the roof on top   
of Duke's. It had been easy to find, easy to get to, and with her   
new-found powers, all she had to do to get there was leap from roof-  
top to roof-top under the two crows' guidance. [What are you going   
to do?] Deimos asked her, focusing her eyes on the people that spilled  
out of the building, not quite sure if they were coming or going.   
[It's too crowded to attack] Phobos pointed out. Raye said nothing,  
merely glaring down at the masses of wasted youth this hovel had   
drawn.   
  
"I'll find him first," she said finally, decisively. "The fat one,   
the one who attacked me, and helped the other hold me." She turned   
to face her two companions, rage in her dark eyes. "They kept me   
from saving the ones I love, they hurt me. They will pay."   
  
Skittering down the nearby fire escape, Raye found herself in front   
of the building, among teenagers younger even than she. They were   
all so alike, painted up and put on the streets, knowing nothing of   
the real world. Deluded. They wore leather, and some spiked their   
hair, adorning their earlobes with silver ornaments. Make-up on the  
faces of boys and girls alike. Rebels, fighting conformity by   
dressing exactly alike. The irony of it was mind-boggling. She   
could only take comfort in the fact she went unnoticed in this crowd,  
which would make her job easier.   
  
Fighting the crowd, she made it to the door, entering easily. There   
was no doorman; this place wasn't classy enough. Inside, a band   
performed, the lead singer tall and handsome, gyrating his hips to   
the throbbing, almost sexual pulse of the music. With his long hair,  
and dark clothes, he looked a little like Chad, reminding her of her  
purpose again.   
  
Bodies pressed against one another in erotic dance, pulsing lights,   
hazy smoke; all blended together to form the party atmosphere that   
made Duke's a popular spot to hang. It was the perfect cover for a   
dead girl needing revenge. Raye weaved among the sweaty bodies,   
sharp eyes in search of her target. Her body throbbed to the music   
as she walked; her face remained expressionless.   
  
Finally, the crowd broke, and she was at the bar, fingers tapping   
impatiently against the soiled wood- one of them should be here. Any  
time. Moments passed, and she still nothing. Then, suddenly, she   
saw him.  
  
Overweight, and sweating, he parted the crowds with considerable ease,  
shoving away rudely anyone who chanced to get in his way. His ice   
blue eyes scoured the room, looking for what, she couldn't be certain,  
finally coming to rest on her, sensual, and leaning against the   
filthy bar. He leered at her behind a short, yet considerably   
matted goatee. She'd got his attention. Straightening her back, she  
tossed her long hair over her shoulders, and returned the smile,   
forcing her painted mouth upwards in a morbid grin as he approached   
her, enticing him, daring him. She knew exactly what he wanted from   
her, as well as what she expected from him. The hunter had found its  
prey.   
  
"Baby." He was beside her now, the fat fuck. She could feel his   
hot breath in her ear, rank with liquor, and cigarettes. "What the   
fuck you doin' in a place like this."  
  
Bile rose in her throat as she suppressed the urge to kill the vile   
little man then and there. But no, that would spoil her plan- and an   
intricate plan it was. "I'm waiting for a man like you, baby," she   
said finally. He liked that. Chuckling to himself like a pervert at  
a magazine rack, one hand grazed the inside of her thigh,  
  
:.The blonde man, taking a gun, running it up her leg, lifting the  
skirt of her *miko* uniform, and shoving the gun inside her.:  
  
resting it there. She didn't shudder, she didn't kill him,   
she didn't react, period, as much as she wanted to do both.   
  
"You going Goth tonight," he asked her, his mouth at her ear again.  
"That's all right, baby. I like that,". His hand was on her thigh  
still, and her eyes focused on it, despising the filthy creature it   
belonged to. "Come on, baby, let's go up to my place. We'll have our  
own little party."  
  
She smiled. A good idea, though she had something else in mind.   
  
  
* * *   
  
Sirens screamed, and the alley-way was filled with the hustle-bustle   
of busy cops. Dave Green held a cup of hot coffee up to his lips,   
and watched as the body of one of Tokyo's most notorious criminals   
was zipped into a heavy black bag.   
  
"It's been a busy night," he said to a nearby police officer, nodding  
towards the fresh corpse. They'd found him hanging by his throat   
from a rusted wire only a half-hour earlier. "That's Jeremy Kaan,   
better known as Pockets. He was one of 'The Churches' footsoldiers;   
been a suspect in three homicides in the past two years, with never   
enough evidence against him to hold him. Looks like someone decided to  
take justice into their own hands." The cop next to him whistled.   
  
"First that cult-killing on third, than this. You think they're   
related?"  
  
Dave shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. "Could be. Just like   
Pockets here, we've never been able to find enough evidence to link   
the Church of the Truth to these shrine-killings." He cracked his   
sore neck, and sighed. "Ah, well, the streets are better without   
scum like him anyway."   
  
"Hey- hey Detective, you've gotta see this!" The urgency in the   
cop's voice drew him to the fire escape where Pockets had been   
hanged.   
  
"What is it, officer?" Dave kneeled next to the cop who'd called   
him over. "What did you find?"  
  
"This." The officer pointed to the blood that had pooled beneath the  
hanging body, black as oil in the limited lighting of the alley-way.  
The wire had cut into Pockets' throat, causing the blood to spill   
onto the pavement below. Dave's eyes widened.   
  
"What the fu-?" He trailed off in confusion as the sight imprinted  
itself in his brain. "How is this possible?"  
  
"I don't know, Detective. But I sure as hell would like to know how   
the blood would do that all by itself." The officer stood up,   
running a clammy palm through his greasy black hair.   
  
"That's the strangest thing I've ever seen," Dave muttered. He too   
stood up. "I want you to photograph this," he said finally, his gaze  
fixed on the nearby cop assertively. "This could be gang, or even   
cult-related. There's no way this happened accidently. After that,   
I want you to wrap this up. It's been a long day, and I've seen   
enough death for one night."   
  
The other officers nodded as he headed towards his car, his long   
black coat flying behind him in the wind, stopping only to cast a   
final glance at the pool of blood he'd been gazing at moments before.  
  
It had dripped into the perfect shape of a bird.  
  
  
-------------  
  
  
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com  
  
Ja,  
Mercury Blue 


	5. Chapter Five

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
Rage in the cage  
And piss upon the stage  
There's only one sure way  
To bring the giant down  
Defunct the strings  
Of cemetary things  
With one flat foot  
On the devil's wing  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Raping the geek  
And hustling the freak  
Like a hunchback juice  
On a sentimental noose  
Operation filth  
They love to love the wealth  
Of an SS Whore  
Making scary sounds  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Psyclone Jack  
Hallucinating Hack  
Thinks Donna Reed  
Eats dollar bills  
Goldfoot machine  
Creates another fiend  
So Beautiful,  
They make you kill  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Crawl on me  
Sink into me  
Die for me  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Blood on her skin  
Dripping with Sin  
Do it again  
Living Dead Girl  
  
Blood on her skin  
Dripping with Sin  
Do it again  
Living Dead Girl  
  
  
"Living Dead Girl"  
Rob Zombie  
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Five  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
"Come on in, baby." Moose opened the door of the filthy apartment  
with a smug look of accomplishment on his face. It was a studio, with   
a bed right in front of them, a small refrigerator next to it, and a   
table in front of that. All in all, the place was tiny, and   
revolting. It didn't bother him at all, though. He was confident   
he'd have Raye nailed, and what his apartment looked like didn't   
matter.  
  
"Is this where you live?" Raye kept her voice innocent, trying to   
hide the disgust that plagued her. "It's... different." She turned  
to him, and plastered a forced smile across her painted features.   
  
"Yeah, yeah, baby." Suddenly the fat man was looming over her, his   
hands on her shoulders. "But I didn't bring you back here to talk   
about that." Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, and his tongue was   
in her mouth. She fought the urge to bite down, instead pulling back  
and glaring at him. Her distaste had finally won, and as she   
at him with disgust.   
  
"Not so fast," she said, her eyes pinched in a ferocious glare. "Did  
I say you could touch me?" Memories flooded her; his hand, on her   
thigh, shoving the barrel of the gun inside of her, cold, and hard,   
and painful. She despised this filthy man before her.   
  
Taking her behavior as foreplay, he reached for her again, a lecherous  
smile on his face. "Come on baby, you going to play hard-to-get now?"  
  
She slapped him across the face. "Back up, mother-fucker," she hissed.  
"Play-time's over."   
  
Moose covered his face with his hand, and glared at her as the   
realization she wasn't kidding hit him. "You stupid little bitch!" he  
snarled. With an animal yell, he leapt for her, intent on having   
her, willingly or not.   
  
A bad move on his part.  
  
Raye played the weak kitten, toying with him. "Please, don't hurt   
me," she pleaded, making her voice as pitiful as possible. He   
laughed, and tossed her on the stained mattress in front of him, eyes  
flaming with desire, and a need for power.  
  
"Oh, I promise it won't hurt," he laughed, "me. You little whore.  
That'll teach you to be a fucking cock-tease." He put his hands on   
his hips mockingly as she pretended to look helpless. "Now, spread   
your legs, let's make this easier for the both of us."   
  
From her place on the bed, Raye spread her legs apart with a false   
look of fear on her painted face. "Oh, please, please, let me go."   
Moose just laughed.   
  
"Yeah, right, bitch. Whatever." With a lascivious look on his face,  
he extended his hand forward, reaching for the area resting at the   
apex of her thighs. Raye widened her eyes.  
  
His hand got closer.  
  
Finally, he was close enough, and Raye reacted with all of her   
strength, clenching her thighs together in a vise grip with Moose's   
hand between them. A quick re-position of her hips, and a loud   
'crack' filled the room.  
  
"My hand! My fucking hand!!! What the fuck did you do to me, you  
psycho whore?" Tears of pain filled his eyes, as he held his broken  
hand in his healthy one, his gaze fixed on the woman on his bed.   
  
"What's the matter?" she asked innocently, reclining on her arms.   
"Don't you *want* me?"   
  
Moose howled with pain and lunged at her, revenge on his mind. His   
broken hand hung uselessly as he clawed at her with his good one,   
screaming obscenities the entire time.   
  
"Aw, I'm sorry," she pouted, easily avoiding his blows, and sliding   
off the bed. "Did I play too rough?"   
  
"You bitch! I'm gonna kill you! I'm gonna fucking kill you!"   
Running to the end-table by the bed, he grabbed a gun from one of   
the drawers, loading the magazine with a sharp 'click'. "You're   
dead!"   
  
Moose turned around, gun in hand, when his expression changed from  
fury to shock. No one was there. "Where the hell are you! I'm   
going to kill you!" he raged.   
  
"Too late." Raye dropped down from the light fixture she'd been   
clinging to, smiling patronizingly. "You already have."  
  
"You're damn straight, I have." Moose fired three rounds into her,   
grinning as the impact of the bullets sent her recoiling several feet  
backwards. "Bye-bye."  
  
"Bye-bye, birdie," she croaked. "Bye-bye." Quickly, she regained her  
equilibrium, grinning as she pressed towards him, holding her jacket   
open. "Say goodbye." Moose gasped in horror as the bullet-holes   
closed on their own, leaving only tears in her shirt. She cocked her  
head and her eyes widened mockingly. "Surprised?"  
  
Raye charged at him, knocking him against the nearest wall, taking   
his breath from his lungs.   
  
"Oh shit," he moaned, "Oh shit." Raye smiled at him. "Do you  
remember me yet?. Moose stared at her in terror.  
  
"You're dead! We made sure of it! You're dead!" Raye laughed,   
slamming the back of his head into the wall.   
  
"It's funny- your friend Pockets said the same thing to me before   
he died. You killers are so unoriginal." With a smile, she   
withdrew a small pen-knife from her pants pocket. "Now," she said,  
putting the knife to his forehead, "What am I going to do with you?"  
She began to cut him, tracing a symbol in his skin. Blood seeped   
into his eyes, mingling with his tears of pain and fear. "Should I   
shoot you? Throw you out the window?" she smiled at the knife she   
held in her hand, still cutting at his forehead. "Maybe I should use  
this knife of mine to cut off your balls."   
  
"Please, please, don't kill me," he moaned, his own blood blurring   
his vision. "I'll do anything!"   
  
Raye laughed again, amused by his patheticness. He hadn't seemed so   
weak five minutes ago. "Oh, I'm not going to kill you," she chuckled,  
"yet. No, I want you to be my messenger." Her eyes fixed on his   
forehead, at her hand as it held the knife that cut him. "When you   
see your friends, tell them that the priestess is back, and they're   
going to die." With that, she finished with the knife and smiled at  
her artwork. "Oh, that's beautiful," she sighed. She made eye-  
contact with him.  
  
"Now, what did I want you to do?".  
  
"Tell- tell the guys you're coming," he gasped in pain. "Tell them   
they're... going to die." Raye nodded in approval.   
  
"You're a fast learner. Not as stupid as I thought." She kissed   
his forehead, his blood coating her lips. With a smile, she licked   
it away. "Delicious. Now, go."   
  
Moose didn't hesitate, breaking free of her grasp and heading blindly   
for the door. "Faster!" she hissed. He complied- within seconds he   
was gone.   
  
Raye leaned back on the bed again, and laughed.   
  
  
* * *   
  
Gabriel slid out from beneath the black satin sheets that covered him  
and his lover. It was late- a little past two in the morning. He   
knew his men would show up at any time. With a sidelong glance to   
the woman who lay sleeping, he sighed, grabbing a robe, and wrapping   
it gracefully around his shoulders.   
  
"Sleep well, lovely," he murmured, an auburn curl falling into his   
eye. With a sigh, he strode to his closet, and began to dress   
himself, pulling on a pair of pressed black pants, and matching black  
dress shirt. After doing so, he snatched the red robe off the back   
off his chair, and put it on as well.   
  
"Gabriel- Gabriel, we've got a problem." The silence was broken by   
the sound of Needles charging into the room with Snake close behind   
him. "He's dead."  
  
Gabriel silenced Needles with a glance, jerking a thumb towards the   
woman who lay on the bed, only a thin layer of satin covering her naked  
form. "Shh..." he hushed them. "You wouldn't want lovely to wake up,  
would you?" Snake shook his head with a licentious grin on his face.  
"Of course not, Gabriel."   
  
Gabriel strode over to a door on the opposite side of the room, and   
opened it, gesturing for the two men to enter it. "Come in," he said,  
"We can talk in here." They obeyed, walking into the room with   
serious looks on their faces.  
  
The room was large, and ornate, decorated with gold leaf and other   
fine metals. A large mahogany table rested in the middle of the   
marble floor, and the entire room was lit by dozens of candles.   
Gabriel had spared no expense for his comfort. "Now," he said   
quietly, taking a seat at the head of the table, "What's happened?"  
  
Needles and Snake took their places along the sides of the table,   
their eyes fixed on their leader. "It's Pockets," said Needles   
finally. "Someone decided to play town magistrate- strung him up by  
the throat in an alley somewhere."   
  
"He's dead," supplied Snake helpfully. Gabriel sat silent.   
  
"Do we know who was behind it?" he asked finally, leaning back in his  
chair. The two men shook their heads, greasy hair falling into   
hateful eyes.   
  
"Last time he was seen, he was taking off from the pool hall," said   
Needles. "Sources say he lost a game- and quite a bit of money. He   
was drunk, and pissed off. An easy target. Any one could have   
picked him off."   
  
Gabriel nodded. "I see," he said finally. "Well, I hope this   
unfortunate matter won't affect your performance at the temple raids  
tomorrow. After an occurrence like this, the last thing we need is a  
lapse in faith. Take out a few extra shrines if you can. Anything   
to keep morality from falling."   
  
"You've got it, Gabriel," said Snake. "Anything you need."  
  
"That's very reassuring to hear, Snake,". Gabriel smiled faintly as   
he reclined in his chair. "Now, would either of you mind telling me  
where Moose is tonight? I hope he has a good reason for missing our  
little meeting."   
  
"Ah, he took off to Dukes earlier tonight," Needles laughed.   
"Probably found some whore to go back to his place with him, and   
didn't want to show up."  
  
Gabriel wasn't amused. "I certainly hope it wasn't anything like   
that," he said seriously. "In this church, we need loyalty, and I   
expect to see that. Understand?"  
  
"Oh yeah, yeah." The two men agreed simultaneously. Gabriel   
smiled.   
  
"Good."  
  
  
* * *   
  
Amy pulled a sweater over her head, and shook the static out of her  
hair. A quick glance at the clock told her it was two-fourteen in   
the morning, but there was no way she could sleep. The dream just  
kept coming to her.  
  
"Why now?" she asked herself out loud. "Why is it bugging me so much  
now?" The logical part of her brain told her it was the anniversary  
that bothered her so much; that within a few days, everything would   
be back to normal. But something about the dream just didn't sit   
right with her. She didn't know why, but she had to got to the   
shrine.   
  
~This is positively insane~ she thought to herself as she pulled her  
shoes on. ~Taking orders from a dream. Maybe I am going crazy.~   
Despite this, she kept getting dressed, pulling on a worn blue   
windbreaker. ~Well, there's only one thing I can do.~  
  
Within moments, she was outside, and walking towards Raye's old home.  
It wasn't exactly safe, she knew that, but a quick pat of her side   
pocket confirmed the possession of her transformation wand. If   
anyone attacked her at this time of night, they would get a wild   
surprise.   
  
Wind whipped her hair, and blinded her in temporary flashes.   
Shivering, she pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders, and  
kept her head down, fighting the chill that threatened to consume her.  
~At least it's not raining any more,~ she thought, pressing on. So   
concerned was she with fighting the wind, she never saw the figure   
walking towards her in the opposite direction.  
  
Neither did the figure. There was a muffled, "umf!" as Amy collided  
with the person, and Amy looked up with shock.   
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I didn't expect anyone to be   
out here this late! I- I wasn't watching where I was going. Please,  
forgive me."  
  
Raye looked down at her friend sadly. Amy didn't recognize her. In  
the darkness, with her painted face, she could be anyone. "It's all  
right," she said softly. "It's my fault."  
  
"No, no, it's mine. I wasn't paying attention." Amy looked up at   
the other woman, and her eyes widened. Something about her was so   
familiar. "Raye?"  
  
Raye gazed at her friend in shock. Could it be she recognized her   
after all?  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry." Amy laughed. "You just- reminded me of someone.   
An old friend." A sad smile washed over her face. "But- that's   
silly." For a minute she was silent, caught up in her memories.   
  
"I- I'm sorry," said Raye. "I really must be going now." Amy   
nodded. "Yes, of course. Have a good night."  
  
"You... too." Raye fought the urge to hug her friend, and tell her   
everything. But that was impossible. She was there for only one   
purpose. "Good bye."  
  
"Good bye," said Amy. She smiled, and turned to continue walking.   
That woman had reminded her so much of Raye. She took a few steps,   
then suddenly, turned around again to get a last look at the woman.  
  
She was gone.  
  
"Just like a ghost," Amy murmured. She shook her head to clear the   
cobwebs that had gathered. "Oh well." She turned, and continued   
heading towards the shrine.  
  
  
-------------  
  
A longer chapter... yeah, I felt like writing. Stay tuned for chapter   
six.  
  
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com  
  
Ja,  
Mercury Blue 


	6. Chapter Six

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
Agony is the price   
That you'll pay in the end.  
Domination consumes you   
Then calls you a friend  
It's a twisted fall  
Binds are like steel   
And manipulate the will to be  
And it's hard to see  
How soon we forget  
When there's nothing else  
Left to destroy  
It's a useless ploy  
  
Your eyes will see  
The dawn of day  
And the writing   
On the wall  
Those words that stare  
Into your soul  
And to yourself  
You will befall  
  
"Domination"  
Pantera  
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Six  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
It was nearly two-thirty in the morning, yet Raye wasn't tired. The   
darkness enchanted her; it had been a long time since she'd been able  
to appreciate it. She couldn't remember where she'd been the past   
year, just that she'd been with Chad and Grampa. It comforted her to  
be able to walk down a street again, breathe again, feel the wind in   
her hair again. Even if it wasn't meant to last.   
  
With a sigh, her mind wandered back to the incident moments earlier.   
Amy had almost recognized her, she thought. Could it be possible?   
She wished she had the time to see all of her friends before going   
back, but she knew it wasn't to happen. She had a purpose, a job to   
do, and once that job were done, she would be dead again. She knew   
that.   
  
~I just miss them all so much,~ she thought. Tears filled her eyes.   
  
"Hey, what's a fine girl like you doing on the side of the road this   
late?" A deep voice broke Raye's concentration, and she whirled   
around, her coat flying behind her like a pair of wings. "Oh, I'm   
sorry. Did I give you a start?"   
  
Laughter filled the air, and suddenly, they were there. Three men,   
surrounding her on the sidewalk. A tall one, with short, dark hair,   
leaned forward, making eye-contact with her.   
  
"On a night like this, a girl should have protection." He smiled,   
revealing a row of crooked teeth. "You never know who's going to   
show up."  
  
His buddies laughed, swaggering about her like drunken peacocks.   
"Yeah," said another, bald head shining in the lamplight. "Maybe we  
should stay with you for a little while. You know, just to make sure  
you're safe." The third man smiled. He was shorter than the others.   
  
"Yeah. We make *real* good company," he laughed.   
  
Raye, who had remained silent this entire time glowered at them, deep  
violet eyes penetrating them with contempt. "Another time," she said  
evenly, her hair catching in the wind and twirling about her. "I   
have things to do."  
  
The three men stared at her in disbelief, the bald-headed one glaring   
at her beneath bushy black eyebrows. "I don't think you understood   
us, lady," he said, extending an open palm towards her. "We were   
offering you a service, and in return, we expected to be rewarded for  
that offer." The first and third men agreed, looming over her,   
invading her personal space.   
  
"This makes us *very* angry." Within seconds, three hands had drawn  
three weapons, and Raye looked at them, trying to decide who to smear  
the pavement with first.   
  
  
* * *   
  
Dave yawned from his place in the driver's seat. It had been a long   
night, but he was finally going home. He longed for a hot shower and  
a warm bed.   
  
The car drove smoothly, lighting up sporadically as he drove under   
street-lamps and glowing building signs. At this time of night, few   
people were crazy enough to still be on the road. But then, there  
were always the loonies...  
  
The light turned red, and Dave pulled the car to a stop, inwardly   
laughing at the silliness of it- there were no cars on the road to   
take advantage of their green light. Stretching in his seat, he   
glanced out the window casually, waiting for the light to change, and  
saw a dangerous sight.  
  
On the corner, there were three men, leering at a young woman. They   
were bothering her, he could tell, and from the looks on their faces,  
their intents were anything but pure. Dave shook his head, beginning  
to worry for the woman. It wasn't safe for her to be alone that time  
of night. One of them was starting to yell at her, he observed, and   
was looming over her threateningly. It didn't look good.   
  
Looking up, Dave saw the light had turned green. With a sigh, he   
eased on the gas pedal, and the car began to move.  
  
  
* * *   
  
"Let's have some fun." The shortest man lunged forward to attack her,   
and was delivered with a punch to the face.   
  
"I don't think so," said Raye huskily. The other two men laughed.   
  
"So the bitch thinks she's pretty tough," one remarked. He was   
behind Raye now, his knife to her throat. He'd taken her by surprise.  
"This should calm her down."  
  
No such luck. Raye's elbow shot back to deliver a punishing blow to   
the man's groin. Shooting out of his grip like an bullet, she fell   
into a natural fighting stance, her eyes slit in anger. "I don't   
have time for this," she said, tossing a strand of hair over her   
shoulder. "I hope you know how to fight."  
  
The third man charged at her, the one she hadn't yet hit. His hands  
lashed out as he tried to strike her, she ducking out from every blow.  
She threw punches with lightning speed, the man crumpling under each   
hit. At last, she delivered the final punch, his head. The man fell  
like a bag of rocks.  
  
"Who's next?" she asked, cracking her knuckles. The man she had hit   
in the groin stepped forward, his knife in his hand.   
  
"Bitch! You're going to pay for that." With the knife extended,   
he lunged at her, and she kicked the weapon away with a powerful   
crescent kick, doubling up for a second front kick to the gut.   
Struggling, he gasped for breath, then charged again. Raye threw   
several punches, yet the man pressed on, falling to his knees only   
when she delivered a spinning back kick to his abdomen. Seeing him   
about to rise again, she finished her attack with a lightning-fast   
roundhouse kick to the side of the head. The scum landed next to his  
friend.  
  
"Would you like to try me now?" Raye snarled at the last man standing,  
eyes gleaming evilly behind the black paint. "Bring it on."  
  
"I'm getting the fuck outta here," he said frantically, twirling on   
his heels to get away. He slipped in a puddle, and almost fell, but   
recovered, taking off as fast as her could. "You're crazy!"  
  
Raye chuckled to herself, and kicked the unconscious man closest to   
her. "Crazy like a loon," she muttered.  
  
  
* * *   
  
Dave walked down the sidewalk, sighing to himself. His cop instinct   
had gotten the better of him, and he'd decided to check out the   
situation- make sure that the woman was all right.   
  
"Why do all the bad guys come out on my shifts?" he muttered to   
himself, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "Is it some sort of   
conspiracy?" Sounds of a struggle drew his attention, and he sped   
up to a jog, careful not to make any noise. At this time of night,  
one never knew what to expect from a situation like this, so he   
needed to remain quiet. The sounds of struggling continued, along   
with cries of pain. This was more than Dave needed to hear.   
Shooting out from behind the corner, he drew his gun, pointing it at   
where the culprits would be. "Hold it right there!" he yelled.   
There was silence, and he froze.   
  
The woman stood alone, among two unconscious men. Her painted face   
glowed in the moonlight eerily, and her hair wrapped around her   
shoulders in the wind, giving her a surreal look. She stared at   
Dave, her face expressionless.   
  
"How can I help you, Officer?" she asked.   
  
Dave, his gun still drawn, circled the bodies at her feet. "What   
happened here?" he demanded. His face was a mask of shock and   
confusion. Raye laughed.   
  
"They tried to attack me," she said, pointing to the two. "They   
failed." Dave shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.   
  
"I don't know what's going on here," he said slowly, lowering his   
gun, and putting it away, "but, it sure as hell isn't normal." His   
eyes met hers. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."   
  
Raye shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. "I don't have the  
time," she said evenly. "I have a lot more to do tonight." She   
tilted her head, and smiled at him.  
  
"Miss, you just took out two men by yourself, on a dark street at   
three o'clock in the morning," Dave said. "I'm sorry, but I need to   
ask you some questions. Come with me."   
  
Without thinking, he grabbed her arm. Raye gasped. More images.  
  
::Sirens, lights. Amy, running to this man; panic. *Are you   
Detective Green?*. And a nod. Him telling her they found the bodies,  
and Amy falling to her knees, crying; him, whispering in her ear,   
trying to soothe her, catching her around the waist when her attempts  
to stand fall short. Sadness all around him, hidden by his stark,   
blank expression. Bodies put into an ambulance before his eyes...::  
  
Raye snatched her arm out of his grasp, looking at him in horror.   
Dave looked worried.   
  
"I'm sorry, Miss," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to." Raye   
recovered.  
  
"It's all right, Detective Green," she said. His expression was one  
of shock.  
  
"How did you know my name?" he asked. "I never told you that."   
  
"I know many things," she replied sadly. "But, I really have to go,"  
she said. "The pool player has a few more friends."   
  
"You- you're the one that killed Pockets, aren't you?"  
  
Raye nodded. "He should have never touched us," she whispered.   
"That was his fatal mistake." She looked him in the eye, "Do you   
remember the murders at Cherry Hill?" she asked. He looked her over.  
  
"You killed them too."  
  
Raye laughed bitterly. "No, no, that wasn't one of my cardinal sins.  
But Pockets- he played a role." She smiled at the memory of him   
hanging from his throat, blood trickling out the cuts the wire was   
making. "I'm going to leave now," she said finally, slowly. "Don't   
try and stop me, or you'll wind up like those men down there. A   
gesture to the men at her feet. She turned, and began to walk away,   
pausing at the sound of a gun being cocked. "Don't be stupid,   
officer," she said, turning her head to the side to look at him. "I've  
gone easy on you because you were there, because you saw." She smiled.  
"But you won't stop me."  
  
Dave blinked, not sure what to do next. The gun in his hand grew   
heavy. He looked at her in contemplation, and was about to decide  
what to do when she left. Leaping high into the air with superhuman   
agility, she landed on the fire escape of a nearby building, and   
with another jump she was on the roof.   
  
Numbly, Dave watched as his target stared down at him from the top of   
the tall building, waving before taking off. He was alone again, in   
the dark, staring at where she had stood. Never in his years as a   
cop had anything like this happened to him.   
  
Who was this woman, he wondered. What did this have to do with   
Cherry Hill? With a sigh, he began to head back to his car. It   
looked like he wouldn't be getting to bed after all. He had an even  
longer night ahead of him.   
  
  
* * *   
  
Dum, dum, dum, honey what have you done?  
Dum, dum, dum, it's the sound of my gun.  
Dum, dum, dum, honey what have you done,  
Dum, dum, dum, it's the sound, it's the sound...  
  
Janie's got a gun  
Janie's got a gun,  
Her whole world's come undone  
From lookin' straight at the sun...  
  
"Janie's Got A Gun"  
Aerosmith  
  
  
"Gabriel, Gabriel, we've got a problem." Moose ran into the meeting  
room, covered in blood, holding his broken hand gingerly.   
  
"What is it, Moose?" Gabriel asked. "Where have you been?"  
  
"Some fucking bitch," he panted, "this... whore, broke my hand." He  
gasped for breath, the running he'd been doing unfamiliar to his   
overweight body. "She... cut me... says... She says... they're   
going to die."   
  
Gabriel handed him a glass of water, and he downed it, water pouring   
down the sides of his mouth in his haste.   
  
"Who, Moose?" Gabriel asked patiently, "Who said this?"  
  
Moose shook his head, his face filled with fear. "That bitch last   
year from the Cherry Hill Shrine," he said, his breathing returning   
to normal. "She's back- somehow. She came back, and now she wants   
to kill them," he nodded towards Needles and Snake who sat silently   
this entire time at the table, "and me too, I think." He was near   
tears- Gabriel had never seen the big man so rattled in the entire   
time he'd known him.  
  
"Moose, the dead girl?" he asked, shaking his head. "How is that   
possible?"  
  
"I dunno," Moose said, his confusion apparent in his voice. "Maybe   
we didn't kill her the first time, maybe she didn't die."  
  
"That's bullshit!" yelled Needles finally. "We killed that bitch   
good! There isn't any coming back from where we sent her."   
  
"She's not dead," Moose insisted, "If she were, could she do this to  
me?" He held up his mangled hand for everyone to see.  
  
"Maybe it's another chick," Snake suggested.   
  
"She knew things- I know it was her, it had to be. She knew things   
no one else could know about that night!"  
  
"Well, it seems we have a problem, gentlemen," said Gabriel softly.   
"Someone is after the three of you. Whether it's the same girl or not   
isn't important right now. What's important is that she's dealt with.  
If she could do something like this to Moose, here," he gestured   
towards the pathetic fat man, "Than who knows what she's capable of. I  
want you to keep an eye out for her. Make sure she doesn't level you.  
And if she is the same girl from the shrine," he paused, "be sure to   
kill her properly this time."  
  
The three men nodded, and then Snake spoke up.   
  
"Moose- what's that on your face?" Everyone seemed to notice the   
symbol for the first time behind the blood on his forehead.   
  
"That bitch- she cut me," he explained. "Why? What are you looking  
at?"  
  
"You'd better look in the mirror," Needles said slowly, gesturing   
towards the ornate gold one that hung from the expensive walls.   
Moose stood up quickly, striding over to the mirror.   
  
"What is it?" he asked, "What's wro-" He stopped mid-sentence as   
his reflection came into view. Carved into his forehead, coated in a  
layer of dried blood, was a crow.  
  
  
-------------  
  
Well, it seems the peices are starting to fall into place for our bad   
guys. More in chapter seven, coming next week.  
  
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com  
  
Ja,  
Mercury Blue 


	7. Chapter Seven

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
Crawling in my skin  
These wounds they will not heal  
Fear is how I fall  
Confusing what is real  
  
There's something inside me   
That pulls beneath the surface  
Consuming, confusing  
This lack of self-control   
I fear is never-ending  
Controlling, I can't seem...  
  
To find myself again  
My walls are closing in  
I've felt this way before  
So insecure...  
  
Crawling in my skin  
These wounds they will not heal  
Fear is how I fall  
Confusing what is real  
  
Discomfort endlessly has   
Pulled itself upon me  
Distructing, reacting  
Against my will I stand   
Beside my own reflection  
It's haunting, how I can't seem...  
  
To find myself again  
My walls are closing in  
I've felt this way before  
So insecure...  
  
Crawling in my skin  
These wounds they will not heal  
Fear is how I fall  
Confusing what is real  
  
There's something inside me   
That pulls beneath the surface  
Consuming...  
This lack of self-control   
I fear is never-ending  
Controlling...  
  
Confusing what is real   
  
  
"Crawling"  
Linkin Park   
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Seven  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
Dave walked over to his filing cabinet and pulled out the casefile   
he'd been looking for. Carrying it to the desk, he placed it on the   
hard wood, and opened his briefcase, sliding the file inside. There   
were some things he wanted to look over, so he'd decided to take the   
file home to study.   
  
It was a thick file, filled with crime scene photos, reports, and   
descriptions of what had happened. On the inside of the folder,   
several plastic bags were stapled, filled with various pieces of   
evidence.  
  
In one bag, there was a something that they had never been able to   
place, let alone figure out what it was. They'd found it on the body   
of one of the victims- the girl, Raye. A red piece of metal,  
long, and tubelike with a gold star at the top. At first glance, it   
looked like it would be a pen, put that wasn't the case, it seemed as  
there was no writing tip, nor ink to speak of. It could have been an  
ornament, or good luck charm of sorts, but studies of the Shinto   
religion showed that no such charm existed in history. One officer   
had gone so far as to say that the thing looked like a magical wand   
of sorts. Dave had laughed then. But still, to this day, the tool's  
use had remained a mystery.   
  
The thing fascinated Dave. Never before had he seen anything like it,  
and he found it extraordinarily beautiful. After it had been dusted   
for prints and he could handle it outside of the bag, he would often  
sit and hold it, staring at it as he thought of the case and tried to  
imagine what exactly had happened that night.   
  
Dave's mind wandered back to his encounter on the street as he closed  
his briefcase. The woman had looked so much like the Raye of the   
photos that he found it unnerving. Hell, with her painted-up face,   
white in the moonlight, he would almost say that it had been her   
ghost he'd seen. But a ghost couldn't lay down two grown men as she   
had, could it?  
  
The two men had regained consciousness within minutes of each other   
only a half hour earlier. Both had told stories of a psychotic   
renegade as they'd awoken. A woman with incomparable strength who'd   
attacked them in the street. A few words from Dave describing the   
brawl that he'd seen prior to the arrest of the two individuals   
resulted in the other cops believing they'd simply ran into a talented   
martial artist, and rubbed her the wrong way. Several felt the men  
had had it coming.  
  
Dave hadn't told them the rest of the story, though. How she'd been   
there when he arrived; how she'd confessed to Pockets' murder. He   
wanted to sort everything out, first. Figure it out. If she *was*   
Raye, returning from the dead, he felt he owed it to Amy to at least   
find out first.   
  
  
* * *   
  
Snake tripped over a stone, almost falling. "Shit," he swore, barely   
recovering. He swayed drunkenly from the impact of his feet against   
the cement, and pulled out a small flask of scotch, drinking greedily.  
Ever since he'd heard some bitch was after him, he'd been royally   
pissed off. No one, and that meant *no one* messed with him and his  
pals. She'd gone too far.   
  
"Pockets, you poor mother-fucker," he muttered. He'd felt bad for his  
old friend, and partly blamed himself for his death. "Goddamn bitch,  
psycho whore... what the fuck does she want?". Darkness enveloped   
him. It was late. Part of him felt he needed to get home, hide,   
avoid the danger he'd been warned of, but the other part didn't give   
a shit. Snake was confident he could take anyone who tried to mess   
with him. Especially if it were a woman.   
  
Angrily kicking a rock that lay on the ground before him, Snake began  
to have the eeriest feeling of being watched. "Hello?" he said aloud.   
No reply.  
  
Shaking his head at the stupidity of it, Snake resumed walking. It  
was just his imagination. Damn, he was getting jumpy, he thought,   
and for several seconds, he felt safe.  
  
Suddenly, there was the crunch behind him of someone stepping on a   
piece of plastic. Garbage. Whoever it was, the sound gave them away  
like the step of a hunter on a dry piece of wood. Snake whirled   
around to face his stalker.  
  
No one.  
  
"Who's there?" he shouted. There was no answer. Snake breathed out.  
Maybe it was his imagination.   
  
"Shit!" The swear escaped his lips as a pair of hands encircled his  
throat. Snake thrashed around, trying to face his attacker. Behind   
him, Raye grinned, and tightened her grip.  
  
"Good evening, Snake," she whispered in his ear, "I presume you know   
who I am."   
  
Snake broke free of Raye's grip, and whirled around to face her.   
"You're her!" he yelled, "You're the bitch that killed Pockets!"  
  
Raye took a deep bow, her eyes fixed on him. "I am she," she said   
clearly, a deep smile etched in her painted features. "And now it's   
your turn."  
  
Snake teetered on his feet, drunken and uncertain how to respond.   
Finally, he lunged at her, fists flailing. "Like hell it is," he   
yelled, and attempted to hit her, screaming as she kicked his legs,   
and sent him to the ground.   
  
"It's late, and I'm tired, Snake," Raye said, kneeling next to his   
fallen form. "So why don't you do me a favor, and die quickly?"   
  
Snake merely gazed at her in horror as her hands extended, reaching   
for him.  
  
  
* * *   
  
Amy finally reached the shrine, and ran up the stone steps two at a   
time. At this time of night, she felt it safer to get indoors as   
quickly as possible, and so she quickly scurried up to the main   
building where Raye and her family had once lived.   
  
Pulling open the shrine doors, Amy grimaced as her hand come in   
contact with something slimy, and dirty.   
  
"What the..?" Pulling her hand away, she looked at her fingers.   
"Mud?" she thought, rubbing her fingers together at the texture,   
"Don't tell me Kiro's slacked off in his care of the shrine already."   
  
Wiping her hands on her pants, she stepped inside, and removed her   
shoes, careful not to wake up the old caretaker. Glancing around the  
room, she noticed several random pools of water soaking the floor.   
  
"How odd." She thought, "There must be a leak or two in the roof."   
Amy pulled her hood from her head, and looked at the ceiling, trying   
to ascertain if and where the water could have gotten in. Seeing   
nothing, she shrugged to herself, and made a mental note to tell Kiro  
about the puddles the next day. For the moment, there was something   
she needed to do.  
  
* * *   
  
"Why are you doing this?" Snake demanded from his place on the floor.  
"What do you want?"   
  
"I want you dead," said Raye simply.   
  
The two were in an abandoned warehouse just south of the city. Raye   
had noticed the place earlier, and saw it as the perfect place for   
Snake to die. And he *was* going to die. She would see to that.  
  
Squatting behind him, Raye secured the final strip of duct tape in   
place, and stepped back, admiring her handiwork.   
  
"It'll have to do," she sighed.   
  
Snake sat on the cold cement eyes fixed in fear on the figure that   
towered before him. "Who the fuck are you?" he swore. "What did I   
ever do to you? You can't kill me without at least telling me that!"   
  
Blackened eyes focused on him in the strangest combination of disgust  
and pity, and she spat at him, hatred burning in her now-cold heart.   
  
"I'm hurt you don't remember me, Snake," she said finally, mock hurt   
distorting her voice. "Because, I remember you." Slowly, she   
walked around him, securing his bonds. "It wasn't that long ago we   
met for the first time- though, I can hardly say we had a proper   
introduction. You and your friends had decided to have a little fun   
at my family's expense."  
  
Reaching behind her, Raye picked up a can of gasoline, and uncapped   
it, letting the fumes taint and impregnate the air. "I've decided   
now, it's time we *really* got to know each other."  
  
"What the fuck are you going to do?" Snake demanded. His eyes went   
to the gas can, than back to her. "What are you going to do to me?"  
  
"What should have been done a long time ago," she sighed. Slowly,   
methodically, she poured the gas onto the floor, breathing in the   
sour fumes with a morbid satisfaction. A slow smile spread over her   
face, and she splashed some on him, before making a circle around him  
with the liquid. "I hope you enjoy my welcome present."   
  
Smiling at him, Raye leaned down over him, and pulled a book of   
matches triumphantly out of his front jacket pocket. "Just what I   
was looking for."  
  
"No! NO!!!! Oh, God, no!" Snake caught on, his eyes widening in  
panic. All of his toughness abruptly flew out the window.   
  
"You pray to your God now, but where was he when Pockets needed his   
help? Or Moose for that matter?"  
  
"Please don't kill me!" Snake begged. Raye looked at him without   
sympathy, and pulled out her roll of duct tape. "I'm sorry, Snake,"  
she said finally. "I just don't want to hear you speak anymore."   
And with one rough gesture, his mouth was taped shut, leaving him to  
plead with her with tearful eyes.  
  
"It's over, Snake," she whispered, and for one, brief second, she   
pitied him. She saw him not for who he was, but who he could have   
been given the right circumstance. This foul creature before her   
could have, at one point, been a decent human being.   
  
Fate certainly is a bitch.  
  
Opening the book of matches in her hand, she tore one off, and looked  
at him again. Tears ran down his grubby cheeks. She scratched the   
head of the small match, and flame erupted.  
  
"Goodbye, Snake," she said. "May you burn forever."   
  
And she tossed the match towards him.  
  
As the tiny piece of sulfurous wood sailed towards him, Snake saw it.  
He finally saw it. Realization spread over his terror-stricken face,  
and from the very core of his being he knew what he'd been wanting to  
know.  
  
There she stood, before him. Hair long, and black in the night, eyes  
burning like small embers, she stood.   
  
Her.  
  
  
-------------  
  
(Singing off key:) Another one bites the dust.  
  
A shorter chapter, I know, but hey, I had a bit of writer's block.   
Stay tuned for more in chapter eight.  
  
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com  
  
Ja,  
Mercury Blue 


	8. Chapter Eight

::mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com::  
  
  
-------------  
  
Something ugly this way comes  
Through my fingers sliding inside  
All these blessings all these burns  
I'm godless underneath your cover  
Search for pleasure search for pain  
In this world now I am undying  
I unfurl my flag my nation helpless  
  
Black black heart why would you offer more  
Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy  
I'm on fire I'm rotting to the core  
I'm eating all your kings and queens  
All your sex and your diamonds  
  
As I begin to lose my grip  
On these realities your sending  
Taste your mind and taste your sex  
I'm naked underneath your cover  
Covers lie and we will bend and borrow  
With the coming sign  
The tide will take the sea will rise and time will rape  
  
Black black heart why would you offer more  
Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy  
I'm on fire I'm rotting to the core  
I'm eating all your kings and queens  
All your sex and your diamonds  
  
  
"Black Black Heart"  
David Usher  
  
  
-------------  
The Crow: Sacred Flame  
Part Eight  
By Mercury Blue  
-------------  
  
  
"God, where is it?" Amy pushed aside the clothing that hung in Chad's   
closet, muttering to herself. "Chad, where did you put it?"   
  
She'd been there a good fifteen minutes already, and still, she could  
find nothing. "It's got to be here somewhere."  
  
With a sigh of exasperation, she fell back onto Chad's bed, running   
a hand hastily through her blue locks.   
  
The ring. The engagement ring Chad had bought for Raye, the one he'd  
never had the chance to give her was missing. Amy fought back the   
urge to scream, or cry. It was gone. She'd combed every inch of the  
bedroom, and it was nowhere to be found.  
  
Tears pooled in her eyes. So this was it. There was nothing. No   
more reminders of the magical love Raye and Chad had shared. The ring  
had probably been on Chad when he'd died; his killers had probably   
taken it.  
  
"It's not fair," she whispered to herself. "It's not fair."  
  
  
* * *   
  
Dave stepped out of the shower, and shook the excess water out of his  
hair. A quick glance at the clock on his wall showed it was almost   
four in the morning, and he sighed. These late night shifts would   
kill him yet.  
  
Yawning, he wrapped his towel around his waist. This case was   
starting to seriously wear him down. He didn't know how much he   
could take. Who was that woman he'd met earlier, he wondered. Where  
did she come from? What did she want?  
  
It didn't help at all that she looked remarkably like Amy's deceased   
best friend, or that she could drop two grown men effortlessly in   
the street. Something odd was going on, and he intended to find out  
what.  
  
Opening the bathroom door, Dave was immediately assailed by a stream   
of cool air, and he shivered involuntarily. After the steam-heated   
warmth of the bathroom, the rest of his apartment seemed cold in   
comparison.  
  
Grabbing a bathrobe from the back of his bedroom door, Dave headed  
towards his small kitchenette. All he wanted was a hot cup of coffee,  
and maybe a sandwich to calm his frayed nerves after all he'd seen  
that night.   
  
"Detective."   
  
Dave nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his name. Turning  
around sharply, his eyes fixed on the woman who'd spoken.  
  
"Jesus H, what the fuck are you doing here?" Dave exhaled sharply,  
a strange combination of fright and facsination filling him. "Who   
are you?"  
  
Getting up from her place on his sofa, Raye tapped the thick file   
folder that lay on Dave's coffee table. "I think you know who I am,   
Detective," she said. "Heaven knows you've been reading up on me."  
  
"You're her, aren't you?" Dave asked with a tilt of his head. "You're   
Raye Hino.. you're Amy's best friend."   
  
Raye nodded, and pulled a strand of wet, dark hair out of her eyes.   
"I am," she replied, walking towards him.   
  
Dave took a step back. He'd had his suspicions before, but now, to   
have them realised, he wasn't sure he was ready. "But, that's   
impossible," he said, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "You died.   
I saw your body. I was there for your funeral. I watched them bury   
your ashes behind the shrine. There's no way in Heaven or Hell you   
could have lived."  
  
"It's true," Raye agreed, sadness filling her painted features. "And I  
can't explain it, either. I woke up like this, and I've been trying to  
figure it out ever since." Sighing, she sat cross-legged on the floor  
in front of the coffee table, eyes fixed on the file. "Tell me what   
happened." She pleaded.  
  
"Not much to say," Dave murmered, taking a seat across from her in a  
nearby armchair. "For the past two years or so, Tokyo's been ravaged  
by a secret religious sect known only to us as the Church of the   
Truth. To them, worship apparantly includes the raiding of shrines   
or temples, and the murders of those inside. On the night of April   
seventeenth- one year ago today- their sights fell on the Cherry Hill   
Shrine." He softened his gaze slightly and looked into her eyes   
sympathetically. "Late that night, several members of this cult   
broke into the shrine, and upon finding you, your grandfather, and his  
apprentice, proceded to execute each of you, one by one." Dave   
stopped speaking as he noticed the tears filling Raye's eyes,   
trailing down her cheeks, over the black lines that covered her them.  
"I'm sorry," he said, running a hand through his thick black hair.   
"Maybe I shouldn't have been so blunt."  
  
"It's alright," Raye replied. She traced a finger over her tear-  
stained cheeks, careful not to smear her make-up. "I needed to know."  
She paused. "What about- what about Amy?" she asked, remembering her   
earlier encounter with her former best friend on the street.   
  
"After the murders, she was distraught, verging on obsessive. She   
couldn't eat, she couldn't sleep- she could barely dress herself," he  
said, recalling the early days after meeting Amy. "I saw her for the  
first time after the murders at the funeral. She stood alone, by the  
cherry tree in the back, the one you were buried under, and watched   
as everyone else- especially that group of friends you'd loved in   
life- crowded around your grave. There was a look on her face akin  
to hatred as she stared at them- at the blonde one with the pigtails  
especially- as though she blamed them for all that had happened."   
Dave's voice grew distant as he recalled that day.   
  
"But why?" Raye asked, "It wasn't their fault."   
  
"In Amy's eyes it was," Dave said, a sad smile on his face. "They'd   
known about the shrine massacres happening throughout town, yet   
they'd done nothing. They hadn't kept it from happening, and Amy   
hated them for it. I think, most of all, though, she blamed herself.   
After all," he added, cupping his chin in one fist, thumb under his   
chin, "she loved you the most."   
  
Silent tears crept down Raye's face as she heard Dave's story,   
picturing the friend she'd known in life believing such a thing.   
  
"I'd never realised," she whispered, eyes downcast. "We'd always   
been close, but I never thought she would react like that."   
  
"Well, she did," said Dave, standing up. He needed a cup of coffee.   
Behind him Raye looked down, at the thick file on the coffee table.   
With a heavy sigh, she flipped it open, curious as to what it held.  
  
Nothing much. Pictures, notes. Sadness twinged her heart as her eyes  
fell upon a picture of Chad. Then she saw it.   
  
"Kami-sama," she whispered to herself. He had her henshin wand.   
  
"I don't suppose you'd like something to drink," Dave called from the  
kitchen. There was no reply. "Raye?"  
  
Dave walked out of the kitchen, curious as to why his nighttime   
companion hadn't replied. Suddenly he stopped, and sighed heavily.   
She was no where to be found. "Raye?" he called again.   
  
Noticing the file was open on the coffee table, Dave strode towards   
it. "She didn't," he said, eyes fixed on the thick stack of papers.  
She had.  
  
The mysterious wand Dave hadn't been able to place; the device that   
looked something like a pen, was gone.   
  
  
* * *  
  
Gabriel was still awake.   
  
He never slept anymore, it seemed. Two hours here, a half hour there,  
rest was something he never really bothered to worry about. Afer all,  
as leader of the single most dangerous criminal-ring-slash-cult in   
Tokyo, he had much more to worry about than keeping a healthy sleeping  
schedule.   
  
The woman he'd been with earlier was gone now. Not long after Moose   
had arrived, clutching his broken hand like a fragile bird, Gabriel   
had woken her up, and sent her home. This new development was   
something he needed to think about in privacy.  
  
Sighing, Gabriel reached over to the table next to him, and poured   
himself a glass of scotch, then, leaning back in his chair, he gazed   
at the amber liquid he held.  
  
"Who the fuck is she?" he muttered to himself. He drank the scotch.  
  
Running a hand through his thick auburn hair, he wondered idly who the   
bitch could have possibly been that killed Pockets, and wounded Moose.  
If he actually believed in any of the religious shit he'd been spewing,  
he might have actually thought God was sending someone for revenge   
against him.  
  
"Gabriel!"  
  
Gabriel was knocked out of his reverie by the sound of Needles slamming  
open the door to his private chambers.  
  
"For fuck's sake, Needles," Gabriel muttered to himself. "Learn to   
knock."  
  
"You've got bigger problems than that, Gabriel," Needles panted,   
shaggy blonde hair falling into his eyes. "That psycho bitch torched  
a warehouse south of the city. Snake is dead, man."  
  
  
-------------  
  
Again, a short chapter.... but I was tapped for ideas. Watch for   
chapter nine!!!!!   
  
Comments, questions, flames, as always go to mercuryblue_22@hotmail.com  
  
Ja,  
Mercury Blue 


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